


Internet War

by bunnoculars



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnoculars/pseuds/bunnoculars
Summary: Jonghyun finds out Taemin likes him, and figures out what to do about it. Set in July 2012, around their first performance of "Internet War."





	Internet War

Jonghyun has been here before.

Taemin solid and warm on his back, breathing in his ear, knees digging into his sides and feet dangling uselessly while Jonghyun does all the work. Sometimes Taemin would fall asleep in the van and it would have been more effort to wake him up, sometimes Taemin just looked so cute he was asking for it.

The only difference between all those times and right now is their address. They live on the twelfth floor of this building and no one ever holds the elevator for them. Fucking Gangnam. Fucking high-rise.

“Jonghyun-aaaaaaaaaaaah…”

That and Taemin is drunk.

He’s drunk and he keeps struggling, slapping Jonghyun’s shoulders and half-shouting down his earhole. Jonghyun can take that much no problem, but his grip slips every time Taemin kicks his legs out, and if he drops him Taemin is the one who’ll get hurt.

Jonghyun hoists Taemin up, resettles his weight. Taemin fists Jonghyun’s collar, hanging on for dear life, and if he rips this shirt…Jonghyun won’t do anything, he never does. Three flights of stairs left.

Taemin tries to talk again and ends up eating Jonghyun’s hair instead, and maybe he’s okay with that, mouth mashed wetly against Jonghyun’s scalp, but Jonghyun is not. Two flights left.

“Hyung?” Taemin mumbles. “Hyung. HYUNG!!”

“If you ever go out drinking with the dancer hyungs again I’ll break your legs,” Jonghyun tells him, and he fucking means it, but they’re here, they’re here. Taemin is being so loud that Jonghyun probably doesn’t need to kick the door in place of knocking, but he does anyway. Hard. It’s been that kind of night.

When he turned his phone on again coming out of the gym maybe an hour ago, he had four voicemails waiting for him, all from Taemin’s number, none of them from him. Jonghyun got the picture after he listened to the first one, the second told him where to go, and he didn’t bother with the rest. Two of the dancer hyungs helped him get Taemin into his car, and now Manager Hyung gets the door for Jonghyun, but Jonghyun just gives him a smile and a thank you the same as he did with them, and takes responsibility for Taemin to the end. Down the hallway and into their room, and then he dumps Taemin onto his bed and throws himself down next to him. Takes a breather.

“Hyung…jonghyunhyung.”

Taemin has spent this whole time just trying to get his name right. Jonghyun thinks about confusing him some more, getting him to call him Jonghyun oppa instead, but then Taemin rolls right off the bed and Jonghyun has his hands full again.

Taemin likes the floor just fine. He moans and curls in on himself when Jonghyun attempts to lift him by his armpits, makes himself so heavy Jonghyun ends up on his knees next to him instead. He takes a second before he tries again. Wrestles Taemin up and into his arms, and then staggers to his feet, pulling Taemin up with him and taking most of his weight. Taemin is okay with that. More than okay. When Jonghyun walks him into the bed and it takes Taemin’s legs out from under him, Taemin clings to him like a monkey. Jonghyun has to pry him off, and steady them both.

Taemin sways, staring into his face.

“Jonghyun,” he says.

And then Taemin tilts into him and fits his mouth to Jonghyun’s.

For a couple seconds Jonghyun draws a blank. Taemin’s lips are soft and he has soju breath and he’s making this stupid face, eyes scrunched closed and brow drawn tight. And all of the sudden it clicks. This is a kiss.

Taemin is _kissing_ him.

Jonghyun takes Taemin’s face in his hands and forces him back. Tumbles him onto the mattress and deals with everything else first, yanks his belt out of his pants and peels his socks off and turns him onto his side, wraps him up in his blanket. Then gets himself over to his own bed before it hits him for real, what just happened, what Taemin just did.

And then…nothing. At some point he stops waiting for things to make sense and just lies there and listens to Taemin’s snores.

 

“Hyung.”

Five more minutes. Please, just five more minutes.

“Hyung, wake up. We have to go to rehearsal.”

Taemin.

Jonghyun opens his eyes and lets the world in.

He regrets it immediately. Everything is stuffy and sun-drenched, and even if he could handle summer there’s no getting used to it, this whole getting up in the light thing. Taemin is right there, too, leaning over him, fresh out of the shower. He must have drunk his weight in soju, but just looking at his face, it’s like last night never happened.

Last night.

Jonghyun wants to take it back, roll over and squeeze his eyes shut and hide, but Taemin can see everything. Staring up at him isn’t helping, either, so Jonghyun pushes himself upright. By the time he’s done rubbing crap out of his eyes Taemin is the one not looking at him.

He says, just to say something, “You’ll be legal in a week, Taeminnie. You couldn’t wait that long?”

It’s safe, it’s familiar territory. Jonghyun still remembers the first time Jinki got Taemin drunk, on accident one night a year or two ago when he let Taemin have a little too much of his soju, and then left Jonghyun to clean up his mess. Taemin probably doesn’t, though, and it doesn’t matter right now.

“I wouldn’t have called you, I didn’t know the dancer hyungs were going to either,” Taemin says in a rush. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

That’s not familiar. That’s not the right answer. Jonghyun wants to ask him who else he would have called. Who else would have come for him at that time of night. Who else always comes. And then Jonghyun finally gives up trying to catch Taemin’s eye, and all he wants to know how much Taemin remembers, what he’s sorry for.

He bites his tongue. Says instead, “Try saying thank you.”

Taemin hesitates.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says finally.

He’s trying so hard to sound normal it’s like he’s forgotten Jonghyun can see him, chewing on his lip and clenching his fingers in his pants and staring somewhere over Jonghyun’s head. It’s just another apology, and Jonghyun wants to hear it even less than the first one.

“Is that it? That’s so weak, Taemin-ah, I don’t know if I believe you~” Jonghyun tries, too hard, because he sounds even worse. He needs to shut up, but, “Prove you mean it, show hyung something.”

Taemin doesn’t show him anything, doesn’t do aegyo or roll his eyes at Jonghyun or make a face, cute or otherwise. Time stretches between them, into something off and awkward and kind of horrible, and the longer the moment gets the more sure Jonghyun is that neither of them are in it, they’re both back on last night. The part where Taemin kissed him.

And then when Taemin finally meets his eyes, just until he’s said, “If you’re not going to shower, get dressed. We have twenty minutes,” and left Jonghyun alone in their room…

The more sure he is that Taemin can’t take it back. That Taemin _meant_ it.

Jonghyun has to do something about that. He doesn’t know what.

He sits there and doesn’t know for a while, and then he figures he might as well do what he’s told, do the whole not knowing thing in the shower.

 

Everybody’s ditched him for the lobby or maybe even the van by the time he gets out of the bathroom, even Manager Hyung. Their lives are their own for once, nothing to do but prepare for their concert a week and a half from now, so he probably trusts Jonghyun not to waste his own time. Jonghyun isn’t sure what Manager Hyung thinks all the other times when he drags Jonghyun out of bed at four a.m. to do variety or who the fuck cares what else, but he’s still right. Jonghyun sprints to the elevator and gets a hand in the door before it slides shut.

It’s empty except for the woman who lives a couple doors down from them. Jonghyun recognizes her on sight, but this is maybe the first time he’s realized she’s cute. She’s dressed for work, which in this neighborhood means she’s put together within an inch of her life, but today her heels are peeking out of her stilettos and her cheeks are flushed and her hair is tied back in a messy last minute ponytail, and she spends the extra couple seconds Jonghyun’s cost her kinda glaring at him. Today he exists.

“You’re running late, too.”

It’s just an observation, and it just slipped out, but she looks like she’s not too interested in hearing it. Not from him, anyway.

“Where are the rest of you?” she says, finger combing her hair and checking her funhouse reflection in the metal walls, only thing she has to work with. They’re down to floor six when she suddenly throws him a glance. “What group are you guys again? Super something or other?”

She’s his age, maybe. Close anyway.

“Shinee,” he says. 

She nods carelessly. “My little sister was so excited when she heard you were moving in here.”

Her little sister is probably half Jonghyun’s age. She’s probably a kid, she’s probably on Taemin’s level. Jonghyun kind of wishes Taemin were here with him right now, talking his ear off about the drama he’s following and all the dumb ways he and Jongin have found to waste time lately, but instead he’s having this conversation. They reach floor three before someone else gets on and she steps closer to Jonghyun, and she smells like flowers but she’s probably supposed to smell like money.

He doesn’t ask if her little sister wants tickets for Shinee World II. He thinks about it, but what comes out instead is, “What’s your name? We’ve been neighbors for half a year and somehow I don’t know it.”

“Yoo Eunjae,” she says. It doesn’t suit her, but what does Jonghyun know.

When she asks him his, he’s not sure how to take that, if she’s being sincere or if it’s just another way to say she doesn’t give a shit. The way this is going he might as well come out with “Bling bling is Jonghyun,” but he can’t do it.

“Kim Jonghyun.”

 

The others have left the shotgun seat empty for him. Once he’s done turning the air on full blast and angling all the vents so they’re blowing right in his face, he has nothing to keep him in the present. Nothing to do but stare at Taemin in the rear view mirror, until they get to Olympic Gymnastics Arena, get to work, and Jonghyun’s day finally, finally starts.

It’s the same day he’s had for the past couple of weeks, but for once he’s okay with it. He’s okay sweating his way through five million different choreographies for the five millionth time, he’s okay watching Taemin out of the corner of his eye and making all the same mistakes Taemin does, letting the dancer hyungs fuck with him on five minute breaks. He’s okay running through the technical details and testing and re-testing the sound equipment every time he’s on the verge of losing himself in the music, becoming his voice. He’s even okay with the sun beating down on him the whole time.

For once, he believes in what he’s doing, one hundred percent.

After spending this past year conquering Japan, this is only their second concert in Korea. They’ve come far enough in their careers now, though, that SM has given them some freedom with it. All five of them got together beforehand and agreed on their dream set list, then decided what to fight the company for, where to give in, what they could live without. And since all that got decided, they’ve had a say in the face their performance will take. Concepts, choreography, anywhere and everywhere they push hard enough. Solos, too. Jonghyun doesn’t care about most of it, he’s fine doing what the others want. He has just one thing he wants out of this concert:

He’s coming out of it as a man.

Because the thing is, he’s twenty-three already, he’s a man already. But that doesn’t mean anything until he’s seen as one. If there’s one thing he’s learned in this life, it’s that the way he sees himself is irrelevant. All that matters is how everyone else does, because that’s the person he’s going to have to live with every day. He’s spent the last four years as a dumb kid with no thoughts of his own, no feelings of his own, no life of his own, and now he’s stuck. There’s no obvious way out. Doing the craziest thing he can get away with looks like the only way he’ll stay sane at this point.

That’s where “Internet War” comes in. And that’s where Taemin comes in.

Taemin.

“Hyung.”

“What?” Minho replies.

Jonghyun turns away before Taemin goes on, but that’s as much as he can help it. He hears that word from Taemin, and he’s there, he thinks it’s him, he always thinks it’s him. And then, a while later, he hears it again. “Hyung.” Jinki this time. Next it’ll be Kibum, one of the backup dancers, their manager. Someone else who’s not Jonghyun.

Taemin’s been avoiding him all morning. He’s not being obvious about it, but Jonghyun can tell. With Taemin, he always can, even with the smallest stuff. And now Taemin has an excuse. It’s their lunch break and a couple members of EXO have dropped by, including Jongin. No one else exists when the two of them are together, and Jonghyun is no exception. Even when they’re talking about him. More or less.

“Is it weird for you? For me it’s always a little weird.”

Fan service isn’t weird for Jonghyun. Maybe he’s weird.

If he is, Taemin is too. “It’s just Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin tells Jongin. Jonghyun has a brief second where he wonders what that’s supposed to mean before Taemin goes on, says to his food, with his voice all careful and twisted up, “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” and Jonghyun is left thinking he’s the problem, he shouldn’t be here for this. He could have not existed over there with Joonmyun instead, left Taemin to someone else for a while.

Jongin doesn’t hear anything but Taemin’s words, because all he says to that is, “That’s why, though. I can’t get used to it, I suck at skinship.”

“I think it’s weirder watching it than doing it. ‘Internet War’ will probably be weirder for you than me, I’ll probably look really stupid,” Taemin says.

He catches his mistake before Jongin does, and Jongin doesn’t even have to say he’s going to stick around, see if that’s true, to get Taemin to smile for real. Jonghyun has been trying all day. “It’s okay, you don’t have to, you don’t like metal,” Taemin says, and when that doesn’t work, just makes them both laugh harder, he blusters, “You wouldn’t get it anyway. Do you even know who Seo Taiji is?”

“You’re only six months older than me?” Jongin replies, totally unimpressed.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t talk, Taeminnie,” Jonghyun cuts in, and once he’s opened his mouth it’s already too late, so he piles on. “You just knew his name, you didn’t know his music at all.”

Jongin laughs. “See, I’m better than you. My big sister was really into him, I remember her crying when he disappeared.”

For the first time in history Taemin ignores him for Jonghyun, but it’s only to say, “Three years isn’t that much either.” There’s a lot Jonghyun could say to that—it sure was when they met and Taemin was an elementary schooler, and Taemin only graduated high school like half a year ago—but Taemin doesn’t give him a chance. “Don’t act like you were an OG fan, you were like five, you didn’t find his stuff until last year.”

And then Taemin shuts his mouth, so fast it takes Jonghyun a couple seconds to catch up, run up against the same wall.

Jongin is the one that says it out loud.

“Wasn’t your girlfriend on one of his album covers?”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Taemin blurts out, before Jonghyun can reply.

Jonghyun saw Sekyung on TV before he ever saw her in person, so it never struck him when she told him the story of her debut, and he connected the dots. Realized he’d probably seen her for the first time years and years ago when they were both children, in one record store or the other, staring out at him from the stacks. When he got his hands on the album again, she was as cute at eight as she was beautiful now, the end. She didn’t really stick with him, the music kind of did. Thinking about it now, though, it seems crazy how little her face had changed, and even crazier how much everything else about her most likely had.

The craziest thing, though, is she has nothing to do with Jonghyun anymore, and even less to do with Taemin. The craziest thing is that doesn’t explain why Taemin’s hunched over his food, stuffing himself. Hiding his face from Jonghyun. Eating his feelings.

Making a mess of himself, too, rice sticking to his cheek. Which, typical. Jonghyun lifts his hand to get it for him, but Jongin beats him to it, clucking his tongue and holding Taemin’s face in his hands and thumbing it away, saying, “Slow down, you’ve got time still.”

And there’s that smile on Taemin’s face again. He talks with his mouth so full Jonghyun can’t translate what he’s said to Korean, but Jongin laughs, runs his hand through Taemin’s hair, replies normally. The two of them move on from speaking kimbap to speaking taeminandjongin. Even the stuff Jonghyun was there for becomes something completely new when they talk about it.

Jonghyun almost forgot. He doesn’t exist.

 

Jongin gives Taemin back to Jonghyun for “Internet War,” but not before he’s hugged Taemin goodbye and made plans for tonight and wasted Jonghyun’s time a little bit. Jonghyun doesn’t mind. Okay, maybe he does. A little bit.

And then the song thuds on and who the fuck cares.

Jonghyun lets it get under his skin, take him over, take him to the edge of that crazy place that doesn’t really exist in the daylight. Across the stage Taemin is doing all the same things, his way.

They meet in the middle. For the rest of them this part is a joke, like Taemin said earlier, and Jonghyun gets it, ha ha fan service, but even if it’s with Taemin, it’s not really funny to him. For him, for this moment, this part is real.

Or at least it should be. He kind of needs Taemin’s help for that. He needs Taemin to not shrink from his touch when he reaches for him and fists his hair, to not avoid his eyes and half-ass his way through his lines and make Jonghyun feel stupid. 

“Work with me, here, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says, because all of fifteen seconds go by before he can’t take it anymore. “ I can’t get this right if you won’t let me. Just try, okay?”

“I _am_ trying,” Taemin snaps. The song has already gone on without them, so it doesn’t matter when he takes a few steps away from Jonghyun, tests his grip, but Jonghyun holds onto him anyway. He’s probably pulling Taemin’s hair, it probably hurts a little, but Taemin doesn’t do anything about it. Just makes excuses, the way he never does. “It’s hot and I’m tired and there’s no point. I’ve been through this a million times, I know what to do.”

That’s worse.

“Then do it. Try harder,” and because Jonghyun doesn’t feel like being fair, “You’re not tired, either, you’re hungover.” Taemin doesn’t get mad the way he’s supposed to, he just twists out of Jonghyun’s grip and only looks at him a few seconds at a time, half shy half sullen. All of the sudden Jonghyun is saying, “You don’t want to do this with me?”

And that’s really not fair. Taemin is probably dying of embarrassment right now, it probably kills him just to look Jonghyun in the eye, and Jonghyun should probably be looking for ways to let him down easy, let him move on. Instead, all he can think about is himself.

Taemin doesn’t take it that far, just says to the ground, “Not right now, no.”

“I don’t mean right now. You don’t want to do this with me?” Jonghyun repeats, more gently. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to I don’t either.” And then maybe he goes too far again, says, “I won’t do it with anyone else, though. It’s you and me or nothing.”

Somehow it’s the one thing that works. Taemin’s eyes snap up to meet his. By the time Taemin’s surprise fades his blush is in full force, and Jonghyun asked for it. He’s the one doing this to Taemin, and he can’t even hate himself for it if Taemin doesn’t. And then—

“I want to,” Taemin says, in a voice Jonghyun’s not sure he’s heard before. “Hyung…about last night.”

“Yeah, what?” And if Jonghyun’s heart is hammering like this, Taemin’s must be beating out of his chest. “If you say you’re sorry again—”

“I wasn’t going to,” Taemin says, tripping over his words in his rush to get them out, and by the time Jonghyun’s caught up, before he can even think to cut him off, Taemin’s gone on. “If you don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to say it.”

That’s all Jonghyun needs to know. 

It’s probably also as close to a confession as Taemin could ever get, knowing him. And Taemin isn’t being careful with his own feelings, so Jonghyun should be. He doesn’t know where this began, how long Taemin has liked him, but this is the point where Jonghyun has to end it. It’ll hurt Taemin more if Jonghyun doesn’t do it now, a lot more than it’ll hurt Jonghyun to say no to him, admit he loves Taemin less.

This is stupid. It should be so easy to say the right thing. He’s been here a dozen times with other people, friends who confused things, girls who got as close as they could before telling him they liked him, others he’d known for years without knowing their feelings, but Taemin isn’t other people. Maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe that’s why Jonghyun goes wrong this one time, only gets as far as, “Good,” before he makes it worse, says, “Just don’t do it again, okay?” and leaves Taemin to decide what he’s talking about.

“I won’t, not to you at least,” Taemin replies, and this is why Jonghyun should have been clear with him, because now he’s the one who’s confusing things. Then he forgets that, because Taemin goes on, “Jonginnie’s my first call. He’s promised to take care of me now so I’ll return the favor when it’s his turn.”

“Does _he_ know how you get when you’re drunk?”

It just shoots out of him. It’s too late but Jonghyun still bites his tongue, tastes copper, waits for Taemin’s face to fall, waits to see how much he should torture himself.

“You told me not to be sorry, hyung,” Taemin says, instead of any of the things in Jonghyun’s head. And then of all things Taemin smiles at him, small and kind of painful, but there, on Taemin’s face and in Jonghyun’s chest. “You can’t take it back, it’s too late.”

Somehow Jonghyun is only starting to realize how much he must have fucked this up just now. He hasn’t gotten out of anything, he still has to set this right.

“Taemin-ah…” 

But in the end Jonghyun still can’t do it. He doesn’t look for the words. Instead he reaches out and scrubs his hand through Taemin’s hair, pinches his ear, pulls his cheeks, stretches his smile. Laughs at the things he’s doing to Taemin’s face, because it’s Taemin and even now he’s so fun to play with and Jonghyun can’t help it.

All of the sudden Taemin kicks him in the shin, shoves him away. Through the pain all Jonghyun can see is Taemin’s narrow angry eyes, before Taemin leaves him with one good leg and takes his place on the other side of the stage again. Of all the things Jonghyun just did to him, this is the one that pissed him off.

Jonghyun really can’t handle him.

 

Jonghyun’s body is always tired when he comes home from the gym, but for once the rest of him is too. He thinks he’ll be able to sleep tonight, if he ever gets to his bed, if the universe ever lets this fucking day end, if it ever lets the elevator start its way up. The doors almost close the first time when Yoo Eunjae squeezes through them. He barely has time to take in her glasses and sweatpants, before another hand shoots through the gap, and they’re joined by Taemin of all people.

“Where have you been?” he demands.

It’s two in the goddamn morning. There’s only one person here in their pajamas, plastic bag from the convenience store down the street hooked around their fingers, and it’s not Taemin. He went out.

Taemin gives him a look, but glances at Yoo Eunjae instead of answering him, and Jonghyun sees red. If Taemin’s been off doing something he can’t even say in the open, Jonghyun doesn’t know what he’ll do to him.

But when Taemin finally opens his mouth, it’s to tell him, “If I’d gone drinking again you’d be able to tell, hyung. I’d be drunk.”

So he’s not being careful after all, he’s just trying to figure out how to blow Jonghyun off. He’s probably worried Jonghyun will embarrass him, something like that.

“Jonginnie?” Jonghyun asks. Even if he can’t get mad about it, he still wants to know.

The elevator suddenly lurches to life.

“Yeah.”

Figures. EXO is totally, impossibly free right now, no schedules for a week or two, and even if the five of them don’t have that kind of luck, they’re as close as they ever seem to get right now. Jonghyun’s been spending all that extra time on his body, working out as much as humanly possible and keeping himself busy, because he eats when he’s bored and he can’t eat. Taemin isn’t going to show skin, doesn’t have to watch every single bite like Jonghyun, so lately he’s stopped demanding that Jonghyun buy him food, started having dinner with Jongin all the time instead.

It’s saving Jonghyun money, but somehow he doesn’t feel like thanking either of them for it. “He kept you out this late?”

“I kept myself out,” Taemin retorts.

His eyes flit to Yoo Eunjae again, and it makes Jonghyun’s palms itch, makes him a little crazy until he gets his hands on Taemin. Gets an “Oh my God, hyung,” out of him before Taemin squirms away and they both realize they’re smiling like idiots, and Jonghyun was going to leave it there, didn’t plan on reaching for Taemin again, but he didn’t plan for Taemin being this cute, either, somehow he never plans for that. If Taemin really hates it so much he can kick him again.

Somewhere in the middle of all that Jonghyun breathes him in, and it all goes wrong.

“Have you been smoking?”

Taemin blinks at him. Jonghyun frees him, gives him maybe two seconds to catch up and then he’s saying, “Don’t try to lie, you stink.” And then, when Taemin keeps quiet and keeps quiet and Jonghyun’s just trying not to yell, “You made me quit. You said it was lame, you said it was gross, you said I’d hate myself someday. Don’t give me that look, those are your words, Taemin-ah.”

And then Taemin tilts his head, widens his eyes, and Jonghyun finally listens to his face and his silence, looks past him, and promptly wishes he could melt into the floor. Spends the time until the elevator dings counting all the ways he completely fucking sucks.

Yoo Eunjae doesn’t hold it against him.

“I’ve been quitting for three years,” she says so easily, like it costs nothing to admit it to them.

“It took me four,” Jonghyun bullshits, because making himself look even worse is the only way he can think to take responsibility for the things he never meant to say about her.

She stops to knock on her own door, and all that’s left to do is nod goodnight, and hustle Taemin down the hall in case his instinct to call Jonghyun out on a lie is greater than his fear of strangers. While he’s punching their passcode in, Jonghyun hears a man’s voice, her reply, her door clicking shut. The end. He’s pretty sure he and Taemin have nothing left to say to each other that can’t wait until tomorrow, either, and it’s not until they’ve both showered and crawled into bed that he kind of wishes he were wrong about that.

Taemin reads his mind, says, “Hyung.”

Jonghyun hides his smile in his pillow, keeps it out of his voice. “Go to sleep, Taeminnie.”

Taemin’s blankets rustle and maybe he sighs, and Jonghyun’s eyes have adjusted enough that he can just make him out when he takes a look. Taemin’s not looking at him, he’s staring at the ceiling. 

“I thought you looked so old when you were twenty, but I don’t feel that way at all.”

“That’s because I had to look after you, you’ve aged me like a hundred years.”

All that gets out of Taemin is one long nothing. It fills the time, makes each minute slower than the last. Jonghyun has almost given up on him when he says finally, suddenly, in a weird voice, “If it’s that bad, I guess I should take responsibility for you.”

Jonghyun’s not sure that should make him smile. He’s not sure he should give Taemin anything close to the answer he probably wants. He’s not sure how to be mean to him, either, when it won’t do any good, it’ll hurt him more than Taemin the way it always does.

“By the time you’re done with me you’ll have to,” he says, trying to ignore all that. “Unless you want to make things easier on me now? Start listening to me? Mm?”

“You always think it’s me. Sometimes it’s just you.” That comes out of nowhere, and Jonghyun is still trying to figure out how it’s in response to anything he just said when Taemin goes on, says, “You make yourself crazy, hyung. You always think you have to do everything, whatever it is, whoever it is, but no one ever asked you to.”

Jonghyun takes so long finding something to say to that he loses his chance. Taemin’s breathing deepens and the clock stops moving and Jonghyun just has to lie there and take it.

 

The next time Taemin goes out with Jongin he forgets to come home at all.

For once in his life he doesn’t make them wait, either, beats them to the van and meets them out there under the big July sky. Jonghyun is pretty sure Taemin missed the part where he made Jonghyun wait up all night, the part where Jonghyun couldn’t lie for him, had to admit he didn’t know where Taemin was, the part where Manager Hyung stressed over whether they should go on ahead or stick around, risk running late in case Taemin showed up, the part where one fucking text message could have solved all that…but somehow no one else cares, and here he is.

“Are you dating or something?” is all Manager Hyung asks Taemin, and that’s only as they’re pulling out into the street, and he doesn’t even say it like he needs an answer.

“He was out with his friends,” Jonghyun says first, because otherwise Taemin will get himself in trouble, find the wrong thing to say somehow. He leaves Taemin to supply the rest.

Taemin gets as far as “Jonginnie” before Manager Hyung smiles knowingly in the rearview mirror, cuts him off. “Are you sure you guys are just friends, Taemin-ah? You’re not dating him?”

Surprises a laugh out of Taemin.

“What’s so funny about it?” Minho says. “You two suit each other.”

Minho’s fighting so hard to keep his face straight he’s completely obvious. Maybe Taemin doesn’t see that, because he’s too busy sneaking glances at Jonghyun, like he wants his help again. Like he even has to think about it, come up with a real answer.

“Don’t you think we’re too alike? We’re both so bad at that stuff, we’d be a disaster.”

This is exactly why Jonghyun can’t leave Taemin alone. And now that Taemin’s left himself open like that Kibum can’t either. “There you go, Taeminnie, you’re made for each other. Who else would take you?”

While Minho and Kibum crack up Taemin’s eyes find Jonghyun again.

“Why does it sound like you’re trying to sell Taeminnie off?” isn’t the best Jonghyun can do for him, it’s just the first thing he thinks of, and it only makes them laugh harder. He has to fix that. “You guys are no better than him. Last I checked you’re both two years older and you’re both just as single.”

They’re not half as cute as Taemin is, either. And Taemin doesn’t need to date anyone he doesn’t want to date, doesn’t need to date just to date. That’s as bad as him being alone. And it’s not like he’s alone now anyway, Jonghyun is right here, he’s going to stay right here, so.

Right as Jonghyun’s realizing he can’t say any of that out loud without making everything ten times worse, and completely hating it, Kibum makes a face that says _it was a joke, dumbass,_ comes back at him with, “Like you can talk, hyung.”

Jonghyun really can’t. He’s got a year on them, all he knows is breakups, his latest one was half a year ago already, blah blah blah. That’s all fine. That’s not the problem.

He can’t talk.

 

Even if rehearsal isn’t hell, it definitely feels like it. The air is heavy and there’s not a cloud in the sky and it’s the kind of perfect summer day Jonghyun hates to the bone. By mid-morning his shirt is sticking to him like a second skin, and it takes him until mid-afternoon before he decides he might as well be gross and sweaty without it on. It doesn’t cost him anything to ignore the others when they accuse him of showing off, and anyway, if they’d spent half the time on their abs Jonghyun has, they’d be checking them out on the jumbotron too.

Besides, it can’t hurt to get a good look at what the fans will see next week. Assess his problem areas while he still has some time.

It doesn’t take long before Taemin’s had enough of him. “I don’t need to be here for this.”

There’s this specific strange half-smirk half-smile on his face as he says it. Jonghyun has seen it before many many times, not because Taemin’s ever wanted him to. Taemin’s never been able to hide it from him, and Jonghyun’s never been able to figure out what he’s not supposed to be seeing. Not until now. 

“Do you work out just to look at yourself?” He’s this close to laughing at Jonghyun, but he won’t, and Jonghyun would be okay if he did. It’s only Taemin. “You should try not looking. It’s a lot easier.”

“Other people can look too,” Jonghyun says. He’s not suggesting something, but Taemin’s ears glow pink and now he’s avoiding Jonghyun’s gaze, and it’s Jonghyun’s fault. Even if it weren’t it still would be, when he’s not saying anything, he’s letting it happen. When he’s being this selfish. “They will whether I like it or not. I’d rather like it.”

Taemin forgets himself for maybe half a second, eyes flitting to Jonghyun’s face, there and gone so quickly Jonghyun doesn’t even feel them on him.

“I wish I had your problems, hyung,” Taemin says, and he’s so bad at making it sound like a joke it’s almost funny. At least it would be if he didn’t continue, hit Jonghyun on the head with, “Nobody looks at me. And if they do it’s not like they see me, they just see what the company wants.”

Before he knows what he’s doing Jonghyun is reaching for Taemin. He doesn’t second-guess, holds Taemin’s face in his hands, brings his chin up, then waits for Taemin to get it over with, meet his eyes.

Somehow he’s not prepared when Taemin does. Now that he has to say something he has no idea what, and he hasn’t even opened his mouth and he thinks he’s gone too far already, and the nothing between them is stretching him thin. He doesn’t catch himself worrying his lip until Taemin does, doesn’t stop looking for the right thing to say until Taemin stops waiting for him, starts trying to read his face instead. Then he’s just trying to keep up.

“I’m looking at you right now, Taemin-ah. What do you want me to see?”

Taemin gives him a smile, a real one.

“You don’t count, hyung. You know me.”

As soon as Taemin says it Jonghyun wants to count. “I don’t know everything.”

Taemin wrinkles his nose, and Jonghyun tries to smooth it out with his fingertip, just because. “You always act like you do, though?”

Maybe he does, maybe Taemin’s right. Okay, he does. Taemin’s always right about him.

“The next time I get you wrong, just tell me, okay? Don’t make me guess,” Jonghyun says. It’s the only thing he can say, even though he kind of hates asking Taemin to use words, admitting Taemin might need them with him. Even though Taemin just gives him this look that might as well say _you’re getting me wrong right now,_ because Jonghyun doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean, and he kind of hates that too. Hates how it makes him think of himself again, say, “What about you, what do you see when you look at me?”

The second he’s heard himself he wants to take it back, but it’s too late. Now it’s up to Taemin to tell him how much he should hate himself.

Taemin doesn’t make him wait, tells him, “Jonghyun hyung.” Like it’s that simple, like the answer was right there, Jonghyun could have asked him that anytime. Taemin hesitates like half a second, and Jonghyun thinks maybe there’s more, but instead Taemin reaches up, runs his finger down Jonghyun’s nose. Just because.

“Internet War” begins again.

Jonghyun gets through a minute on his own, growls into the mic and goes through the motions, burns up in the heat, his insomnia. Then Taemin’s there again. Poking his finger into Jonghyun’s chest, getting in Jonghyun’s face, doing the stupidest things with his own, setting himself off before Jonghyun even comes close to cracking. His hair sticks to his forehead, slips through Jonghyun’s fingers. Jonghyun barely pulls before Taemin’s swearing at him, pushing him away, so Jonghyun twists his hand into his tank top instead. Doesn’t really notice Taemin’s nipples until Taemin tries to cover them, and it gets harder not to. Whatever, Taemin could have been looking at his this whole time, if he’d wanted.

He has been. Looking at Jonghyun. He’s looking right now. Maybe he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

Jonghyun does, is all.

 

Taemin’s been twenty since the new year, but today’s his birthday. Today means he can get as drunk as he wants for the rest of his life, and no one will be able to say anything about it. Taemin was pretty quick to point that out to Jonghyun. 

Jonghyun has other ideas. “It’s supposed to mean you’re old enough to take responsibility for yourself, Taeminnie.”

He knows that’s not how it’s going to go, though. The Republic of Korea has never been there to clean up Taemin’s vomit and deal with the crazy things he pulls and put him to bed, and now it’s gone and made all that legal. Jonghyun will be stuck with the mess, like always. It’s not like Taemin ever listened to him before.

It’s not like Taemin’s listening to him right now, either.

“How is that a red card?” Taemin bursts out. “Second yellow, whatever. This is corruption, the ref likes you better.”

Jongin doesn’t even laugh at him. Just keeps his eyes on the game, keeps his patience, says, “Stop pressing square so much, x works better like ninety-nine percent of the time.”

Usually Taemin gets spoiled, spends his real birthday with Jonghyun and the other three, then gets another one with his family, and then another one with Jongin when they both have time. This is first time since their debut he’s managed to roll all three into one. Taemin’s parents stopped by rehearsal during their lunch break, brought Taemin seaweed soup and so many banchan the leftovers will probably survive the night, if only because Jinki has the rest of the cake he bought Taemin to keep him busy. And now Jongin’s taken over, Fifa and junk food and inside jokes.

Taemin loses for the umpteenth time, but he’s not Minho, so he doesn’t throw his controller away in disgust, blame Jonghyun for distracting him or something. Playing with Taemin’s hair, burrowing his toes under Taemin’s thigh, watching the faces he made instead of his fuckups on the TV.

Taemin’s next try doesn’t get him anywhere, either.

“You don’t even like soccer, how are you so good at this?”

“How are you so bad at it?” Jongin replies. 

Aaaaand again.

“Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun says when poking him in the side and breathing down his ear does no good. Taemin chances half a glance at him. “Have you decided what you want?” 

It takes a couple minutes before that gets Jonghyun a “Huh?”

That’s way more annoying than it probably should be.

“It’s your birthday,” Jonghyun reminds him, in case he’s so busy playing with Jongin he’s managed to forget somehow. “Same as last year, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He doesn’t have to worry about Taemin taking advantage of him. Taemin doesn’t have expensive tastes, and if he doesn’t spend money on himself that’s just because he has nothing he wants, and no matter how much he likes to fuck with Jonghyun he’s never fucked with Jonghyun’s wallet.

Still, Taemin doesn’t have an answer for him. Each passing moment he takes to think sits in Jonghyun’s stomach weirdly, shifts around like it can’t get comfortable. It’s the same with all four goals Taemin lets in, each time Taemin catches Jonghyun in the corner of his eye, the flick of his fingers as he brushes his bangs out of his eyes for the millionth time, until Jonghyun can’t take it anymore. Reaches up and does it for him and waits for the feeling to find a way out.

Surprises Taemin into looking him in the face. And it’s only been a few minutes, but it’s like Taemin’s just remembered he has Jonghyun waiting for him to say something.

“Then…” Taemin buys maybe five more seconds, before he makes up his mind, tells Jonghyun, “Food.”

“That’s it?” It’s not until Taemin beams at him, nods, that Jonghyun realizes maybe he said that out loud. That’s okay, he would have said it either way, and anyway, “I buy you food all the time, think of something else.”

“Hanwoo beef,” Taemin says to that. Then, “I can pick a place around here if you want to spend more money~”

“What’s the point? Beef is still beef across the river and you don’t care how it’s cooked,” Jonghyun says quickly. He doesn’t bother adding that it weirds him out when someone stands there and tends the grill and watches him eat, because he knows Taemin is the same.

Taemin goes back to the game, but not before he’s said, “Fine, you can buy me soju too,” like Jonghyun’s just going to do whatever he says.

Which he is. He always does in the end. Jonghyun accepted as much a long time ago, and he doesn’t know how it’s taken this long for Taemin to find him out. To use him like this, at least. Jonghyun’s got this smile on his face, so big it kind of hurts, and he has no idea how it got there.

Just then the final whistle blows. Taemin sneaks Jonghyun a smile before he wrestles Jongin’s controller away and tells him, “You’re changing teams, you have to,” and flicks through until he hits one he doesn’t recognize.

Just like that, they’re back on the part where Jonghyun doesn’t need to be here. The best Taemin can do against Bumfuck FC is tie, so he ends up changing teams too, goes back and forth for a million years and asks Jongin, “Who does Messi play for?” at least twice, as if he’s supposed to know. Then forgets everything when he has to bully Jongin away from his favorite snacks, “You said you bought those for me, I never said I’d share,” and get up to stash them somewhere safe.

And then, when Taemin comes back to start it all over again—

“Are you hungry now?” Jonghyun asks, just as Jongin says, “You can give up any time now, Taeminnie.”

Taemin stops. Tries as hard not to look at either of them as Jonghyun does to catch his eye, but it’s not like Jonghyun’s won when Taemin turns to him in the end, because all he says is, “We just had cake.” 

Oh. Okay.

Jonghyun gets to his feet before Taemin can sit down next to him again.

“Fine then,” he says. And, “Some other time.” And, “Don’t forget, because I probably will.” And, “This must be the first time in your life you’ve turned down food.”

And and and. He needs to shut the fuck up. He’s not sure he can so he says one last thing, “Don’t stay up too late, we have to get up tomorrow,” and then one more, when Taemin follows him to the door, “Happy birthday, Taeminnie. Have fun,” and gets the fuck out instead.

 

At this time of night the gym is always half an hour away from their dorm. It’s usually a world away, too, but not tonight.

Tonight he doesn’t hear the music pounding in his ears, doesn’t smell the sweat and leather filling his nose, doesn’t enjoy the temperature control or the way he’s basically got this whole place to himself, and the few people here don’t know or care who he is. Tonight he forgets about endorphins and just feels gross, forgets about alone time and just feels lonely, forgets about the man he’s trying to be, and wishes he could stop trying.

He’d rather be getting fat with Taemin.

Jonghyun can’t go back yet, and he’s thinking maybe he won’t, so he adds more weight. Twenty-five pounds worth, because fifty would be stupid and maybe a little melodramatic. Twenty-five is good, his muscles burn and the rhythm he’s built up over the last couple of months stutters, breaks down, and he can put everything into breathing.

And when twenty-five pounds stop taking him somewhere, he gives up on his arms, moves on to his abs. If he were a masochist he’d give cardio a shot instead, get on a treadmill, but crunches are good. They’re the kind of pain he likes, the kind that tells him he’s doing something right.

He needs something like that right now.

It gets him all the way to the shower, and then he’s left to himself again. He rinses his hair and wonders if Taemin’s gone to sleep yet, if Jongin’s gone home. Pushes his hair out of his eyes and washes his face and wonders if Jongin’s staying over. Soaps up his arms and chest and tries not to think about whether Taemin would leave Jongin on the couch or take him to bed with him. Scrubs his skin raw so he doesn’t have to feel the way it’s burning, but there’s no way he knows to kill the thing that’s tearing him up inside.

He gives up. Goes home.

Gets as far as the elevators before he sees another person. Yoo Eunjae again. That she’s here means he doesn’t have to press the button and call it down, and he won’t have to wait as long to go up. It doesn’t mean anything. It means he’d rather she weren’t.

She greets him with a nod. Makes it easy enough for him to remember his manners, nod back.

“I heard you guys are doing a concert.” Her sister again, probably. And yep, sure enough, “Is it the kind of thing where my mom could take my sister?”

Jonghyun’s “yeah, sure, why not” dies on his tongue when he gives it the tiniest bit of thought, and “Internet War” fills his head. His own mother could have sat in on any one of their rehearsals, watched him and Taemin run through it with zero embarrassment. The real thing, though…

Jonghyun doesn’t know how it’ll go, how it’ll look. That’s kind of the point.

“It depends on what she’s like,” he hedges.

“Wow, should I be worried about my sister instead? She’s only sixteen.”

Jonghyun doesn’t get that.

“Eunjae-ssi. You were sixteen at one point.” Obviously not all that long ago, either, but that’s not the kind of thing he can say to a stranger, so, “You should know what sixteen-year-olds are like.”

Yoo Eunjae doesn’t take offense, doesn’t put on like her sister is an angel or a baby or a brat or otherwise incapable of thinking for herself. Just smiles, allows, “I guess,” and then, when Jonghyun’s done with her and back on Taemin, “It’s more like…she’ll always be younger than me, you know?”

Jonghyun does know.

There’s nothing more to say, so Jonghyun knows for a while in between floors, and then down the hallway and at his own door. He knows some more while he waits for his eyes to adjust, then some more as he picks his way through the empty dorm to their room. And then he gives himself a couple seconds to stand over Taemin, lying there right where he fell asleep, blanket kicked off, bare feet and pant legs riding up around his knees, face-to-face with Jongin, a breath away and in his arms. And he knows.

It makes him so crazy he has to make himself go and know in the shower, and then out on the couch, but no matter what he does, he can’t leave their room, and he can’t get the Taemin he saw a few minutes ago out of his head. He won’t be able to until morning comes and Taemin wakes up and remembers Jonghyun exists. Talks to him, smiles at him, touches him.

Likes him.

 

Time crawls.

The appliances murmur and the air breathes and the ceiling never gets any closer, and the small hours of the morning sit on Jonghyun’s chest, one on top of the other. He makes it to four thirty before he can’t take it anymore, so he takes his third shower. When he gives in, gets out and goes back to the living room, he finds Jongin.

“What are you doing up?” Jongin blinks at him, shifts his weight from foot to foot, freezes up by degrees, until Jonghyun finally takes pity on him. “Can’t sleep?”

“I haven’t had to get up for like two weeks, but my body won’t listen,” Jongin says.

Jonghyun knows what he’s talking about, if only in theory. He’s never had a problem waking up, because he’d have to sleep first. They’re both up now, though, so whatever. He sits Jongin down at the kitchen table, and absolutely does not stand on his tiptoes to get the cereal down from the cabinet.

Then, with his back to Jongin, two bowls to fill before he has to look at him again, “Taeminnie?”

“Still asleep.”

Typical. Taemin’s going to make Jonghyun get him up again, the way he always does. He’s going to annoy the hell out of Jonghyun, too, he’ll probably play deaf and curl into a ball and bury his head under his pillow, and whatever Jonghyun tries it won’t matter, nothing will work on him except time. He’ll try everything anyway.

“Why do you like Taeminnie so much?”

Jongin’s forgotten his cereal the same as Jonghyun, spoon suspended halfway between his bowl and his mouth. Jonghyun doesn’t know what face he’s making, what Jongin’s looking at.

“What kind of question is that, you’re supposed to be his best friend,” Jonghyun says quickly, before it gets into his head, under his skin, the things Jongin could be asking him. _You’re supposed to like him better than I do._ “Taeminnie’s the type that needs someone to look after him, he can’t be left alone. You know how he is.”

_You’re supposed to know him better than I do._

“You looked after him before, too, hyung. When we were trainees.” Jongin takes that bite he was never going to take, goes back to his cereal like he didn’t just squeeze Jonghyun’s insides like a sponge. Then says with his mouth full, “You didn’t know you’d end up in Shinee together, and you already treated him way better than me.”

“Aigoo.”

Jonghyun scrubs his hand through Jongin’s hair. That doesn’t get him anywhere so maybe he takes his feelings out on Jongin’s cheek instead. Pinches a little too hard.

“It’s okay, I get it, Taeminnie’s cuter than me,” Jongin goes on. Jonghyun gets his other cheek, lets Jongin choose between shutting up and eating his breakfast or choking on it.

And then, a little later, when Jonghyun thinks it’s over.

“Taeminnie really likes you, hyung.”

Somehow it’s harder for Jonghyun to answer for Taemin than it was to answer for himself. Somehow his throat closes, and his face heats up, and his heart squeezes. Somehow it gets so bad Jonghyun can barely look Jongin in the eye.

“I know that.”

All Jongin says is, “Good,” and the next time he opens his mouth, it’s about other things. This weekend. The concert. And it’s about other people. EXO’s Kai. Shinee’s Jonghyun. Jonghyun’s second chance to show Korea who he is. How Jongin is still waiting for his first one, because SM Town doesn’t feel like it counts. 

Jongin leaves before it gets light. Jonghyun sees him out, then goes back to their room, climbs into his bed. He tries to sleep, lies there with his eyes shut like he did earlier, but it’s still so hard. He knows if he opens his eyes Taemin will be right there.

 

Thursday and Friday pass, and then Jonghyun wakes up and it’s Saturday. Today is the day.

Which shouldn’t be a surprise, that’s kind of how it works. The five of them have practiced everything so much they should be able to do every single song of every single set in their sleep. Jonghyun won’t have to do any of it alone, either, not even his solo. He’ll have Taemin.

Taemin.

“Taemin-ah.”

They have maybe three hours, they’ve picked through the whole show one last time. Kibum is freaking out and spending all his energy trying to convince Minho he’s not, the dancer hyungs are bored out of their minds and the technical staff are too, camped out backstage, playing cards, playing with their phones, trying to nap, even though Jinki’s the only person who’s actually managed to sleep. The only thing in Jonghyun’s head is what if he fails at handcuffs later. What if they don’t lock.

Taemin takes too long, so Jonghyun takes him by the wrist, brings him to his side, only bothers saying, “Come here, I need to figure these things out,” after he’s replaced his fingers with cool silver metal. Taemin’s not too interested in figuring out how to get the cuff off, which makes two of them, but Jonghyun gives it a try. Taemin lets him take as much time as he wants, pull Taemin’s hand into his lap. His own looks so big and clumsy next to Taemin’s it makes him a little shy.

And then a while later, again, “Taemin-ah.” This time he’s paranoid that his tattoos are rubbing off under his shirt, that they’ll be a smeary mess by the time he gets to show them off.

Taemin takes a look, palms warm on Jonghyun’s back.

“How do you have so many fan clubs, hyung? Did you make some of these up?”

“I can’t help it if people like me,” Jonghyun retorts before he can think. Then he does, and his heart skips a beat or two, and he wishes he could see Taemin’s face, twists around to get a look. Then Taemin laughs at him, says, “I guess they can’t help it either, if they like _you,”_ and Jonghyun’s okay never seeing his face again.

He gets over it in no time. “Taemin-ah.” There’s no reason, but he doesn’t need one. His nerves are on fire and he doesn’t know what to do with himself, how to make the time pass faster, how to get it to stop, and Taemin is right there with him.

He’s right there, and no matter what Jonghyun does to him, mess up his hair, tickle his side, tell him stupid jokes, misunderstand everything he says, Taemin’s still so cute. He doesn’t have to do any of it, anything at all, to make Taemin smile.

It’s the same for Jonghyun. Taemin’s doing all the same things to him.

And then…time.

 

The first set never really hits Jonghyun, not while he’s doing his part, not when the last note of “Replay” fades into the night, or when his heart stops pounding in his ears a few minutes later, amidst the controlled chaos backstage. Not even when the coordi noonas release him into the wild again and it’s down to him and Taemin, Kibum doing Gaga just outside, and Jonghyun finally has room to breathe. That’s when “Internet War” does.

“This feels like the first time, doesn’t it?” Jonghyun says. Split second later he thinks his heart might explode waiting for Taemin’s answer, so he switches to, “Are you nervous?”

Taemin’s expression shifts subtly, and Jonghyun goes a little crazy trying to read it. Then Taemin says, “Worry about yourself, hyung,” and it’s about Jonghyun again, somehow it always ends up being about him.

He’s not nervous. He’s not freaking out.

It’s okay if he is. He can use that.

“Don’t hold back, okay?” Taemin says next, like he’s read Jonghyun’s mind.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replies. The smile Taemin gives him in return is one he’s given Jonghyun a billion times, a few times a day, every day, for the last seven years. Just one smile, and just like that, Jonghyun can’t see anything else, and all he can do is hate himself for those billion times he never looked at it, the way he is right now. Then suddenly he has words again and he’s saying, “I might hurt you a little.”

Taemin just smiles harder. “You think I can’t take it?”

“I never said that,” Jonghyun says, because he didn’t. That’s not what he was saying.

Taemin takes his smile away, gives Jonghyun a look instead. Gets as far as, “Hyung,” before he gets stuck.

Jonghyun doesn’t know where Taemin is going, but he doesn’t want to get in the way, so he has to wait. The sound system cuts off, the crowd comes to life in an avalanche of screams and whistles, and then there are other people again, hustling Kibum off to the changing room, swarming Taemin and Jonghyun to check their earpieces and fix their make up one last time.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, Taemin takes Jonghyun’s arm, pulls him aside, and it’s just the two of them again for the few seconds they have together.

“I’m okay if it’s with you,” Taemin says, so quickly now that he’s stumbling over his words. “You said you wouldn’t do this with anyone but me. It’s the same for me. We’re the same.”

Taemin is trying so hard not to make it sound like a question.

He should just ask Jonghyun. He should have just asked him sooner. This morning, last week, the moment he first looked at Jonghyun and wanted to kiss him. Any time but right now, when Jonghyun knows the right answer and can’t even give it to him. Ten different people telling him ten different things in either ear, heart in his throat, stomach in free fall, their fans waiting, that look on Taemin’s face from across the room, no time left.

The song starts again.

Jonghyun starts again.

Doesn’t fake it, just forgets. Who he is, where he is, what he’s doing here, his face, his brain, his voice, everything. By the time he’s done with the first verse he’s ripped his vocal cords to shreds and he’s seeing spots and the world comes and goes with the lights and the smoke, and he still wants out so badly he can taste it.

Then it’s Taemin’s turn, and there are three of him, one right in Jonghyun’s ear and one in the speakers all around them and then there’s the one Jonghyun wants, all the way across the stage and out of reach. Just for a minute, just for now, but a minute is a lifetime and now is all Jonghyun’s got. The wait is all he’s got. 

Drums. Guitar. Bass. His body is made of metal. Each breath he takes explodes in his lungs, and everything he sees disappears before he can look again.

Everything except Taemin.

He starts walking.

And then all of the sudden Taemin’s right there, and he’s impossible, he should look so stupid, sparkly and buttoned up tight, and his eyes are so dark and Jonghyun got it wrong, it all starts here with him. He wants to mess Taemin up, he wants to make Taemin smile, make Taemin say his name. Taemin, Taemin, Taemin. He wants Taemin.

He can have him.

right. now.

Taemin’s hair is so soft in his fist. Jonghyun _pulls,_ yanks Taemin’s head back. Gets this noise out of Taemin, low and bit-off and just for him, close enough to kiss, pink mouth, little hitched breaths on Jonghyun’s face. Their hips meet, and they’re both hard, Jonghyun’s been hard for him since forever, and Taemin should have _told_ him.

The song keeps going, and suddenly that’s all it is, just a song. It takes everything Jonghyun has to keep up, control himself, spit out his lines and stare into Taemin’s eyes and try not to kiss him, fuck him, make him his. Taemin bites his lip, bites back another noise. Shoves him away.

Too much.

Jonghyun burns through the last minute, the last verse. By the time they circle back to each other, stand handcuffed together while the final beat drops like a bomb, all that’s left inside him is the one thing he has to say where Taemin can hear him.

 

“I like you.”

 

It’s just another day, after twelve, that time where it’s both today and tomorrow. Yoo Eunjae reaches the elevator in time, and Taemin drops Jonghyun’s hand.

It’s not like she notices anything. Just nods to them both, eyes faraway and phone pressed to her ear, then turns and stands in front of them and carries on with her life like they’re not there.

“Yes, I’ll bring him home. Just don’t ask him to marry me, okay? It’s only been a month.”

Jonghyun’s not listening, not really. It’s just kind of hard to ignore her. And when Jonghyun looks at Taemin again, Taemin’s looking at her instead. He has to fix that. Staring and staring and staring buys him a couple seconds of Taemin, but then she ruins it again, whines, “Mom~” and makes Taemin jump, blink, shift away.

“I don’t know, he’ll eat anything. Please don’t make a big fuss.”

They’re already down to the fourth floor and every five seconds comes another “Yes, mom,” but Jonghyun tries Taemin again. Plays with his fingers until Taemin bats him away, sways into Taemin’s side until Taemin makes a face, hisses, “Stop it.” Gropes Taemin’s ass until Taemin reaches back and tugs his hand away, and Jonghyun’s got him. He holds on tight this time, laces their fingers together, makes Taemin smile, big and stupid and happy.

“Fair warning, I’ll still like him even if you don’t.”

When the doors open again, Yoo Eunjae doesn’t look back. Neither does Jonghyun, because he has to get Taemin all the way out to his car before he can touch him again. At least as far as the parking garage.

“What does Taeminnie want to eat~?” he asks.

“Hanwoo beef,” Taemin says promptly. All Jonghyun has to do is make a face, before he huffs, insists, “You told me not to forget. Don’t act like you have, either. You promised, hyung,” and then, when Jonghyun’s just trying not to smile, “Be good and I’ll blow you in the car after.”

Jonghyun was just playing around. He’s pretty sure Taemin knows that. He’s pretty sure Taemin’s the one playing with him now.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Taemin-ah,” Jonghyun manages. “Holding hands in the elevator is too much for you.”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to,” Taemin says, giving Jonghyun a sidelong glance, and taking his hand now. “Sometimes you don’t think, so I have to.”

Fair enough. Jonghyun doesn’t think, leans in and steals a kiss. Waits for Taemin to do something about it. Taemin just smiles, though, and he’s so cute Jonghyun has to kiss him again, and again. And then Taemin kisses him back, slow and open-mouthed, and that’s it. When Jonghyun finally pulls away it’s only because he has to breathe.

And somehow when Taemin can talk again, the first thing he does is decree, “We don’t have to eat first.”

Whatever Taemin wants. Jonghyun just concentrates on finding his keys.


End file.
